


A Long Way To Go

by coolknives, PuzzleBot



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: M/M, More characters might be added, canon/oc relationship, i am so sorry it took me like a week to get over my anxiety and start posting this, possible azran legacy spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-08-19 12:46:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8208517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolknives/pseuds/coolknives, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuzzleBot/pseuds/PuzzleBot
Summary: Desmond Sycamore encounters a strange man on one of his lectures…





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey there lads nives here, thanks for dropping by to read this! the storyline is taking place after the events of unwound future, let alone the azran legacy. vincent is my character, surprisingly, not a fan character, but i just think it'd be fun to mess around with combining their universes… desmond deserves some closure too ;_;
> 
> i'd like to thank my co-author and my best friend professorinkwell as well! if we manage to finish this fic, it's going to be pretty long. anyway… let's get into it

This science conference was a boring place for Vincent: nothing new, nothing he didn't already know or read about on the Internet, nothing could catch his attention, before he took a peek into the ancient history section. Quite an unexpected field for Vincent to get interested in, but the advanced technology the professor was talking about caught his curiosity.

Vincent sat down, wanting to listen to the lecture attentively, but eventually caught himself focused on the man reading it… What was his name again? "Professor Desmond Sycamore," said the brochure that was given to Vincent a while ago. He sighed, the name being familiar to him, then looked up again to listen to the Professor properly this time; his voice was quite pleasant to listen to after all.

"The Azran were amazingly technologically advanced. Until very recently, we had no idea what had caused their sudden, almost overnight, disappearance. It's widely agreed that the loss of technology like theirs set this planet back millennia, almost like a larger scale version of what the Library of Alexandria did to us."

The professor was in his element talking about this subject, and he was barely looking at his notes; the sign of a true professional in the field. At least, it certainly looked that way to Vincent, and the other members of the audience. In truth, his ease in the talk came purely from the fact he'd given it so many times, to so many different audiences for so many reasons. He went through the motions, clicked through slides, and answered questions all with a practiced calm and precision; his mind almost in a totally different place altogether.

Vincent noticed how the professor didn't seem to be engaged in the lecture himself. He had one single question; the one that determined the worth of this lecture, and even this entire conference to Vincent. When the professor stopped reading, the man waited until all the little audience there left, then approach the lector, feeling a little bit nervous.

"… Professor Sycamore?" He asked quietly, looking at the other man with interest; Vincent found him rather good-looking to say the least, especially when he looked closer.

Looking up from the briefcase he was packing his papers and work into, the professor smiled politely at Vincent. Glancing the man in front of him, he couldn't help but pause in his response for a moment. The day was fairly warm for early March, but he was wearing gloves that were clearly much too warm for the weather. Humming for a moment, he nodded his acknowledgement.

"How can I help you?" He finally responded, taking in his appearance more as he closed the suitcase. He seemed out of place somehow. Of course it wasn't his place to judge, but the ginger, wavy-haired man certainly didn't strike him as a historian or archeologist of any kind. In fact, he didn't seem like the time of person you'd see at a convention like this at all, or at least in his opinion.

Tilting his head, Vincent took another closer look at the professor and noticed that he was rather young; at least based on the looks. Vincent found himself overall a little stunned that the other man actually paid attention, but he quickly recovered by slightly shaking his head.

"I have a question... About the Azran civilization; their technology, to be precise." He said and quietly cleaned his throat, feeling like what he was about to ask is extremely embarrassing. "A-and, it's serious. I'm serious..."

Raising an eyebrow, Professor Sycamore finished tidying away from his lecture and started paying full attention to the taller man, the timidness of his approach making him curious.

"Well, I'll answer it to the best of my abilities, Mr..." Pausing mid sentence to think, he hummed to himself, "I'm sorry, I don't think I got your name...?"

"... Hable. It's Doctor Vincent Hable." The man nodded and looked straight into the professor's eyes with his one, reddened from the tiredness and unblinking eye. The timidness receded, and Vincent was back to his usual, more tense and serious state as he remembered why he was here in the first place. "My question is... Do you think the Azran ever performed time travelling, or maybe they had technologies of that field? Do you have any information on that? They seemed rather advanced to me..."

Vincent frowned and looked away for a moment, rubbing his own chin nervously.

Watching Vincent grow more confident again, the professor couldn't help but wonder briefly what he'd gotten a doctorate in, but put the thought out of his mind in order to focus on the question being asked. Humming thoughtfully, he tilted his head.

"Time travelling...? Well I can't say that's something we could easily prove without evidence, but... The Azran were, as you said, an extremely advanced race, capable of everything from creating other sentient lifeforms and even reversing death... I, for one, would not put it past them to have at least tried." He responded, his interest piqued by the idea.

"... Wait just a moment. 'Reversing death', you say?" Vincent almost shuddered as he heard the professor saying that, and his own speech sped up in nervousness. "Would you please elaborate?"

Hope started to shine in Vincent's usually gloomy, the only visible right eye. If he could find the technology to even revive _him_ , that would make everything even more easy!

The man was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that he basically stared at the professor, his mind all open and ready to listen, but too distracted to watch his own behaviour.

Watching these emotions flick across Vincent's face, Desmond raised an eyebrow in interest. He began to wonder what sort of area he was researching to be so interested in the Azran's technology, but thought it best not to pry; at least not yet.

"Well, it's quite complicated to explain..." He said, slightly disconcerted by the intensity of the gaze Vincent was fixing him with, "Have you heard of the Azran Sanctuary, and the events that occurred there a few years ago?"

"Well, uhm…"

Vincent found himself completely dumbfounded; he had barely heard of the Azran civilization before this lecture at all. He shook his head, the decided to clarify:

"You see, I'm not a historian by any means… I have a doctorate in electromagnetism." He sighed and made a pause, nervously biting his lower lip. "S-so I haven't heard about these events, no. We could sit down, I'll listen to everything you have to say, Professor Sycamore."

Nodding and smiling, Desmond picked up his briefcase and gestured to the door of the hall.

"I know a nice cafe around the corner that we can talk in; I need a drink after all that talking." He chuckled slightly and smiled at Vincent, as if trying to put him at ease at least slightly, "Shall we?"

* * *

Desmond exited the hall with a warm smile, heading through the main room of the convention with comparative ease. It was much less busy than earlier in the day, and he was honestly glad of it.

Glancing to Vincent walking to one side, he wondered again what on earth a doctor of electromagnetism would want with knowledge of the Azran.

"So, what brings you to the convention, then? I haven't seen you at anything similar before." He asked, lightly enough that it could be passed off as a general question.

Noticing the rather easy look, Vincent tried to smile back at him, but it came out weak and even a bit forced. Shaking all of the thoughts about it off, he listened to Desmond's question and sighed.

"Well… You see, I'm looking for a time traveling technology that differs from what I've got, I want to look at different approaches to the issue," Vincent mumbled quietly, a bit scared about revealing too much, then made a pause and continued. "For example; a historian's approach, too. Someone who goes back in time figuratively…" He laughed a bit and looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed by his words.

"Ah, a personal project then? I can't blame you; it's a... Fascinating subject." Desmond adjusted his glasses as he spoke, humming with interest, "I'll do my best to help your research all I can."

He smiled as they left the room, then pointed across the road to the cafe, indicating that it was their destination.

"Yes, it's… Quite personal." Vincent chuckled and looked away for a moment, a sad feeling overwhelming him for a brief second. But when Desmond gestures to the place, he perked up and looked at Desmond. "… Is this the place? I think I've been there myself; they have good coffee."

"Yes, I quite like this place myself." Desmond commented as they crossed the road. He held open the door to the quiet cafe with a polite smile, allowing Vincent to enter first.

As they both entered, the smell of fresh baked pastries and bread greeted them as it mingled with the smell of the 'best coffee in England' - or so proclaimed the sticker on the window. The cafe was small, but not claustrophobically so, and the large windows made up for the dark wood that made up a majority of the decoration, as did the bright lights overhead. It didn't have the dingy aura of most 24-hour cafes; in fact it was quite the opposite: refined, calm and clean.

Desmond closed the door - a bell jangled to announce their entrance - and found his seat in the corner of the room untaken, as usual.

Nodding at Desmond's polite gestures, Vincent followed him inside the cafe. Even though he had been to this place once already, he still enjoyed the cozy atmosphere, appreciating the soft seats as well. He sat down and quietly thanked the waiter that gave them the menu, then ordered a sweet coffee drink for himself.

"… So, Professor Sycamore? What can you tell me about the Azran technology being able to… 'Reverse death'?" Vincent looked up from the menu and adjusted his glasses, asking this with a serious tone.

Ordering a peppermint tea for himself, Desmond hummed thoughtfully and pondered on where to start.

"Well, a few years ago, I was privileged enough to be a part of an expedition that culminated in the discovery of the Azran Sanctuary; an ancient ruin and relic of the Azran... Inside, the people I was accompanying and I had to make a decision. We had to step into some kind of... Beams of light, in order to shut down something that could well have laid waste to this planet as we know it, but if we did... We died."

Desmond let out a sigh and adjusted his glasses. Even thinking about it now made him shudder, though he was alive now. He let the pause hang in the air for a moment, allowing Vincent to digest the information so far.

"…Oh."

Desmond's words made Vincent freeze for a moment. This man… Was dead? He tried his best to digest it, to imagine the scene, only to find himself disturbed and saddened by the thought, in quite a strange way.

"… S-so, how are you alive now?" He blurted loudly and nervously, having an urge to check Desmond's pulse, even though the man was clearly alive, even judging by the sight. "Are you even… Alive?"

The effect his words had on Vincent was far from Desmond's intention with the story, but he could entirely understand where the response was coming from. With a wry smile, he nodded.

"Yes, I am alive..." He confirmed, "At the time, of course, we had no way of knowing this would happen. However, something happened that none of us had expected. The emissary of the Azran, a kind of messenger trapped in ice for eons... She begged the Azran, and somehow... We were brought back to life."

Here, he had to stop his story for a moment, as their drinks had arrived. With a quiet thank you to their waiter, he poured his tea, added sugar, and took a long drink. As he did so, he glanced out the window, watching people walk past. It was later in the day than he'd expected; the lecture must have overrun after all.

Vincent fell silent, but his movements indicated tenseness, even anger. He took his drink and moved it away from him, still thanking the waiter quietly, but with annoyance in his tone. He stared at Desmond unblinkingly, then, when the waiter left, interrupted the other man's little break.

"… So? Where is the emissary now? Where is the device?"

He tried his best to keep himself calm, but the wave of aggression that came with the realization that everything Desmond was talking about was gone now flushed over him. Was there really another way to bring a person back to life instantly, aside from working with *them*?

Ah, so his interest wasn't entirely theoretical either. Desmond couldn't help a small spike of pride in hearing the small slip of Vincent's tone into one of determination, in finding more information as to why exactly he wanted this. With a hum, he put his teacup carefully back on its matching saucer, giving the other man a chance to calm himself a little.

"The emissary is gone now; she was destroyed along with the sanctuary." He stated plainly, adding a second sugar and stirring his tea before continuing, "However, I'm still researching what happened that day; the Azran aren't an easy puzzle to solve, Doctor Hable."

Frowning, Vincent sighed deeply and finally took some of his iced coffee drink, thinking that it could help him to cool down a little. It blew his mind how an event like this could happen, and yet everything was left undiscovered.

"I see now… How is your research going, then?" He muttered, the professor's calm demeanor making him feel even a bit guilty, but Vincent made his best efforts to conceal it. "Must be not an easy task to research something that is gone…"

"You forget; my entire job is researching things that are 'gone'." Desmond managed a chuckle in an attempt to dispel the sudden tension attempting to settle across the two of them, "But yes, this one is a fairly arduous task. I have the advantage of having been there, and experienced it myself, which I suppose gives me a leg up... Of course, I went back to the ruins of the sanctuary, collected samples of everything that I could and found a few intriguing and promising artefacts. I'm getting somewhere, though at the present time, I'm not sure *where* exactly."

He sipped his tea again, casting an eye around the room calmly. It was clear that he was confident in what he was saying, and entirely calm, despite Vincent's tense actions.

Vincent sighed, realising that this was going pretty much nowhere. He looked outside the window now to calm himself down and notice the rain starting. Despite their conversation having no actual use to Vincent anymore, he just did not want to leave yet.

"Professor… What about time traveling, then? Is there anything that could help me?" He asked, not really hoping for anything, but just to keep the conversation going; you don't get the chance to talk to such a scientist every day.

"Time travel is a dangerous subject to be dabbling in. A... A colleague of mine once knew someone who died as a result of a test in the field." Desmond said warningly, taking off his glasses momentarily to clean them with the handkerchief in his pocket, "Personally, I haven't seen any indication that the Azran could have had such technologies, but they were so much further ahead than we've ever gotten, it's absolutely a possibility that they tried. After all, it's one of the few things that's infinitely more difficult to us to control in any way."

Putting his glasses carefully back on, he fixed Vincent with a long look, noticing that he was still wearing the gloves he had noticed when they met in the hall. He couldn't help wondering about this man; he was certainly mysterious in more ways than one.

"… My condolences." Vincent mumbled and looked away, remembering all the victims of his machine. "I see, I see… Then, this conversation might be over."

When Desmond took his glasses off, Vincent couldn't help but look at his eyes, making quite an intimate eye contact. A thought flashed through his mind, making him blush a little bit. Vincent found himself quite comfortable in the professor's company, which was an unexpected realization to him; just sitting like this with their drinks in silence was enough for Vincent to not feel lonely.

"Feel free to stay a while longer." Desmond smiled calmly, breaking the eye contact to sip his tea again, "I'm sorry I wasn't able to help you more though, Doctor Hable."

He looked back again to Vincent, noticing a blush, but passing it off simply as the warmth of the room rising as the heating was turned on. Pouring a second cup of his tea, he observed the outside world again; the rain was coming down hard, and the few people passing by paid no attention to each other, all focused on reaching their destination, and on their futile attempts to keep dry in the sudden shower.

Vincent looked outside as well, a small smile on his face about not having to go back to his hotel through this showering rain just yet.

"Thank you… For your company. You're quite pleasant to talk to, even outside the auditorium, Professor." Vincent said, still smiling a soft smile, surprisingly, not a fake one; the overall relaxed atmosphere made him loosen his tongue a bit. "It's fine. I don't think this machine is a successful project after all… I have to come up with something else."

Nodding and smiling a lot more calmly in acknowledgement of the compliment, Desmond turned back to the conversation, looking away from the rain.

"Well I do wish you all the best on your project, Doctor Hable." He said courteously.

The other man relaxing made Desmond a little bit calmer in turn, and his posture became a lot more loose.

"Yes… Thank you." Vincent said quietly, letting out a sigh of both relief and sadness.

Suddenly, he squinted his eyes and took off his glasses to look at them closely, groaning with annoyance. There was quite a nasty stain left on the right lens that made seeing through it a trouble; Vincent thought that he probably left it when talking to the professor for the first time, simply, out of nervousness.

"Professor Sycamore…?" He put his glasses back on quickly, rememberingthat they are also there to hide his scarred and overall oddly-looking left eye. "Could I borrow your handkerchief for a moment? I was forgetful enough to leave it in my hotel room…"

"Of course, yes."

With a small nod, Desmond passed over the handkerchief, his eye catching on the scar that ran across the other man's eye. There was something more there, but before Desmond could quite work out what it was, the glasses had been replaced, the dark lens on the left obscuring his view. He blinked in surprise and then averted his own eyes, more than sure that Vincent would rather he didn't ask questions about it, even if he wanted to.

"Thank you…"

Quickly wiping the glasses, Vincent returned the handkerchief, indeed noticing the curious look in Desmond's eyes. At this, he chuckled and sighed:

"See something interesting, professor…? My left eye simply was damaged during… My… Hmm… Working process." He lied, wanting to satisfy Desmond's curiosity for whatever reason, but also wanting to keep the truth. Vincent felt quite conflicted as he placed his glasses back on and sighed.

"Ah, sorry for staring, doctor; excuse the curiosity..." Desmond said apologetically, nodding and taking in the explanation anyway. He had to wonder how he'd been so injured when he was working with - what was it again? - electromagnets. Well, it was hardly his place to ask, especially after staring like that.

He reprimanded himself slightly and decided to change the subject before the silence became awkward.

"So, what was it that made you study electromagnetism then...?" He asked. Instantly, he knew the question was simply too sudden to be natural, and mentally cringed a little.

"Well, it's simple… I was always interested in the field, hence I started studying it." Vincent shrugged, the question really seeming weird to him; but it also warmed his heart a little, how Desmond clearly wanted to stay here and keep the conversation going. "Also… Call me just Mister Hable, or Vincent; your choice. We're not at the science conference anymore, so…"

It amazed Vincent how comfortable he felt near another person. Despite small awkward bits, the conversation just went so well, compared to other his social interactions, especially lately. It was the first time he could distract himself from his 'personal project' and just… Casually talk to another person.

"… So, do you live in London? Or are you living in a hotel like me?" Vincent asked with hope, wondering if they can ever meet again at least.

After committing the name to memory properly, Desmond nodded and smiled.

"Yes, I live just a stop on the tube away, actually. It's quite convenient for what I need, after all." He responded, adjusting his glasses again out of habit.

He sipped his tea again, feeling much more refreshed thanks to that and the atmosphere settling now that the rain was cooling down the day. Vincent's presence was surprisingly welcome to him in the moment; he hadn't really spoken to anyone socially in... Years, now that he came to think of it. The closest he'd gotten was brief meetings with other academics, and he wasn't sure they counted... It occurred to him then, out of the blue, that he hadn't extended the courtesy of a more informal address.

"Oh, please, call me Desmond, by the way." He corrected his mistake quickly, smiling again with more a genuine look about him.

The name 'Desmond Sycamore' seemed so naturally fitting to the man, Vincent managed to remember it right after seeing the brochure. He started making more associations: Desmond's look reminded him of autumn somehow. Of a cozy autumn evening, when Vincent is quietly watching the leaves fall from the trees, there is a cup of hot chocolate in his hand, and there's someone near him, and that person is…

No, what? Vincent shook his head, the thoughts, despite being quite pleasant, were strange to him, unfamiliar; he blushed again and looked outside the window, almost missing Desmond's request to call him by his name.

"… O-oh, alright; Desmond, yes…" He mumbled, then sipped more of his drink and regained his composure, still weirded out by his own thoughts.

The way Vincent so suddenly seemed to zone out of the conversation surprised Desmond. He couldn't help but blink in surprise when the other man responded suddenly, and he had to wonder what he was thinking about.

Pondering for a moment himself, he went into his briefcase, wanting to make up for being less than helpful in his search for information. With a calm smile, he passed a card over to Vincent.

"I'll still be researching into the topic myself, by the way, so if you give me a call at any point with more questions, I'll see if I can get you better answers than I've given today." He explained.

Even moments after the card was given over, he was questioning his own actions. He would never have offered to keep someone updated on his research before. He couldn't help but think that Raymond would be delighted with him making connections again after so long in seclusion.

Vincent stared at the card, then blinked and took it slowly, almost cherishing it.

"… Thank you… Do you, um… Want my number? Just incase you need my own scientific experience, I-I mean…" He looked at Desmond's fave a bit awkwardly, the card reminding him that this pleasant evening is going to end very soon. "I mean, who knows what might happen, right…?"

Despite not wanting to leave now at all, Vincent understood that he can't make the professor stay with him any longer; he is probably a busy man. But the fact that he gave him this little card brought the small feeling of hope of them meeting again. Vincent asked the waiter for the bill, sighing slightly.

"… I'll pay." He said, but very softly, rather inviting Desmond to accept this little move than forcing him into it. "It's fine by me, don't worry…"

"Ah yes, you never know after all. Thank you." Desmond said warmly, closing the case again as he finished his tea. It was a little down heartening to know the pleasant conversation had drawn so naturally to a close, which was a surprise in and of itself. Desmond certainly had been enjoying the company that evening, now he thought about it.

Brought out of his thoughts by Vincent's offer to pay for the drinks, he realised just then that he'd left his wallet at home in the rush to get to the talk on time, so it would be useless him protesting to pay his half.

"Oh, that's very kind; thank you, Vincent." He said, his voice full of genuine gratitude.

Vincent nodded and quickly wrote down his mobile phone number on a piece of paper of his own notebook, whilst the waiter prepared the bill. Hearing gratitude in Desmond's voice made him smile genuinely; Vincent was happy to make someone's day a little bit better.

"Here… You can call me any time, in fact, even if you just… W-want to meet…" Vincent mumble shyly and gave Desmond the paper with the number. "I must say, I quite… Enjoyed your company today, Desmond. Thank you."

"And I yours; it was a pleasure to meet you, Vincent, and I'm glad we got to talking. Thank you, as well." Desmond said, honesty in his voice as he accepted the paper and tucked it safely into his pocket.

It didn't take a detective to notice the apparent meekness returning to the other man's demeanour, and Desmond questioned it mentally for a moment before deciding that it was certainly the least mysterious thing about him.

"Thank you for your company this evening; I enjoyed our conversation." Desmond responded as they shook hands, taking the time to meet the other man's eyes without staring too hard at the blacked out lens of his glasses.

To Desmond, Vincent seemed almost lost, like the world was passing by him much too fast and he couldn't slow it down. He almost pitied him; the glint of emotion in his eyes was recognisable from his own mirror every morning. The man standing across from him was broken - or it seemed to Desmond that way, anyway - and he wanted to help him. But no. It was better he stayed away from others on anything near a personal level. Yes, that was best.

By now, the handshake had gone on just that moment too long. Semi-reluctantly, Desmond took his hand away and smiled warmly.

"Don't hesitate to call should you need any more help." He said, again before his mind caught up with his mouth. He'd just decided to keep the man away; why did he keep inviting him back like this?

When the handshake ended, Vincent looked lost for a brief moment, not knowing what to say or do; this man clearly hadn't socialized for quite a while. He just stared back at Desmond before he managed not to zone out.

"Thank you… For this evening." He said quietly before picking up his briefcase and turning around. He wanted to add something else, to say something more than this, since Desmond didn't seem to understand that he gave him more than just information. He made Vincent forget about his machine, about everything that weighed him down, but only for a short while…

It didn't take long before Vincent got entirely upset with himself. This man is basically a random person, why did Vincent's mind started clinging upon him? He tried his best not to show it, so he just quickly made it out of the cafe, giving Desmond one last brief glance…

"And the same to you, Vincent." Desmond responded, but already the doctor was gone, leaving him with his thoughts alone for company. Vincent had certainly left an impression on the professor, but he couldn't quite work out what it was. He'd left him with questions unasked and unanswered; questions that never would be answered, most likely.

There was just something about him that seemed to shout, "I'm a mystery! Solve me!" at Desmond, and for the life of him he couldn't place it. Perhaps it was the small things: the gloves that he never took off; the scar across his eye; the nervous demeanour. Then again, it could also have been the questions he'd asked, and the mention of a 'project' that seemed nothing to do with what he had a doctorate in. The most likely scenario to Desmond was that it was a mix of everything culminating to make Vincent leave him with a strange, almost unconscious mix of emotions, and a need to see him again, to solve the mystery.

Through his thoughts, he'd already left the cafe, and started walking down the street, on autopilot towards home. He should have been back an hour or so ago; Raymond was sure to be worrying. Not that he didn't worry all the time anyway. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent and Desmond manage to meet each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> nives here again! first few chapters are going to be a little slow, but things are going to happen. thanks for stopping by to read!  
> this chapter contains food mention, very mild azran legacy spoilers, awkward conversations, and very very mild body horror.  
> the ending is a bit abrupt, but the third chapter is coming already!

Vincent woke up quite easily, completely missing the breakfast, but he never really cared about it anyway. Eating was still too hard, especially in public, so he had some food stashed in his room. He thought that sleep would help him to get thoughts about Desmond away forever, but… It didn't help at all. The thoughts were still there, as fresh as before he had fell asleep.

He decided to take it slow and read a book, or sleep more… Just do whatever he could to distract himself. Going through yesterday events in his memory, he still was feeling like Desmond was silently calling for help; there was just _something_ in his eyes that impressed Vincent deeply. Even a book couldn't get his mind away from it, even a meal… 

He just kept spacing out all day, thinking about Desmond. Later, Vincent decided to go to the hotel's hall to find something to read, then he was guided to a small library it had. Vincent was looking for just a fresh newspaper, but stumbled upon a small archive of older ones; he quickly flipped through them, before something caught his attention…

"The Masked Man strikes again!" Said the headline, but that's not what got Vincent's interest. He just saw terribly familiar words: "the Azran sanctuary". There was even a photograph of a massive, terrifyingly old flying ship-looking building, that made Vincent shudder a little. "The Masked Man was spotted at the ruins of the Azran sanctuary," Vincent read the first line of the article, but it didn't concern Vincent much. What truly did concern him is that Desmond was there, and there was no information on that: no interviews, no photographs… How?

Meanwhile, Desmond's day started early, and he was running on caffeine for most of it, having had a maximum of 4 hours sleep. When woken by Raymond at 7, he'd been informed he had two meetings early in the day. He was tempted to cancel - his mind was certainly not in the right place for talking about archeology to people as dull as the rocks they studied - but Raymond reprimanded him. He'd done so well yesterday, he had to keep the ball rolling.

So Desmond did, but the entire way through his presentations and discussions, his mind was forever flicking back to Vincent. He had to see this man again, he had decided by the end of his second meeting, but he just couldn't bring himself to call him for no reason. It would be all kinds of awkward, and he'd never get the answers he was looking for. That's what made him decide to start researching into Vincent's questions more; if he could give him any information on it, it would be better. So he took his books and made his way back to the same cafe as the day before, almost hoping the atmosphere would help him to concentrate better than the stale air of his home.

After spending his entire day at the little archive he discovered, searching through newspapers to find anything about the Azran and Desmond, Vincent failed to find anything of importance. He managed to find only one science magazine with Desmond's interview, where he was talking about some 'living mummy', but aside from that… Only a mysterious person named "the Masked Man" appearing on the Azran ruins and making a havoc there. Vincent thought this man might be Desmond's enemy of sorts, but he'd disregard the thoughts for now. Getting tired of all this, head feeling heavy with all the new information among with other weird thoughts, he headed outside.

It felt like it was about to start raining, but Vincent neglected taking his umbrella. He took that science magazine with Desmond's interview with him, though, and headed to the cafe they were in, simply to bring back that feeling he had yesterday. That cafe appeared to have very nice meals, and Vincent needed one pretty badly at this point, and the cafe seemed empty enough for him to feel comfortable.

When he entered the cafe, he didn't see Desmond sitting there at first, but then his glance accidentally fell on the back of the man. The hairstyle was certainly recognizable, as well as the tense posture and the suit… Vincent could barely believe it. It was Desmond himself sitting there. His head started pounding with anxiety as he thought if he should go and at least say "hello".

At this point, Desmond had been there a fair portion of his day, and as such had grown accustomed to not looking up at the sound of every person entering the cafe. He hadn't made any huge breakthroughs yet, but he had discovered in the back of one book a tale about time travelling, or at least something similar, translated from the original Azran language. Of course it could just have been a tale, but the Azran were known for their love of hiding facts about their history in stories. Desmond was painfully aware of that after so many years of study and work.

Sipping the warming Earl Grey he'd ordered, he finished writing a few notes about the page he was currently reading and glanced out the window, looking calm, but also quite tight, reserved in his movements. In his mind, he was debating if this story was enough of a reason to call Vincent again, but he was still uncertain. Until he had solid proof or disproof, there should be no further contact, he decided before returning to his books, leaving the tea to create condensation on the cold glass of the window.

After watching Desmond like this for a while, Vincent sighed made a decision to at least greet him, and maybe even offer help with his studies, since he looked terribly tired. Vincent slowly approached the man, quietly speaking from behind.

"… H-hello, Desmond… Quite unexpected to see you here again."

He walked further to face Desmond properly, then look at the books he had on the table. They were mostly history books, so they didn't mean anything to Vincent, despite looking intriguing.

It took Desmond a minute to register the voice, and a moment longer to associate it with the person that had present in his mind for the past 24 hours. He looked up in surprise, blinking owlishly. What was Vincent doing here? In a state of shock, he took a few moments before he realised he hadn't yet spoken.

"Ah, Vincent; this is a surprise." He said, trying to hide the fact he was quite as surprised as he was, "Please, take a seat, if you want."

A genuine smile graced his face for a moment; he hadn't even needed to come up with some excuse to see the man again; here he was in front of him now! Then he remembered his resolve to not make friends with the man and faltered slightly as he cleared away books so that he could sit down with comfort.

"How are you doing?" He asked, trying to clear his mind as well as the seat.

Vincent barely even tried to hide his emotions; he beamed at Desmond as a reply to that genuine smile and the offer to sit down with him. Desmond was looking forward to see Vincent himself… The concept was hard to believe in for him, but not it was at least possible.

"Thank you, yes… I'm doing fine. I was… Reading up on the Azran, in fact…" He chuckled, then glanced at the open notebook with Desmond's notes. "I can see you're rather busy… Am I not interrupting?"

Again, Vincent caught himself on the thought that he wasn't thinking about the machine ever since he had met Desmond. He smiled and sighed softly at the realization, then shuffled on the chair to make himself comfortable.

"I'm glad to hear you're doing well, then. And is that an interest sparked in ancient history there? I seem to have done my job well." Desmond chuckled freely, shuffling his papers neatly as he spoke, "You're not interrupting anything that can't be done later; don't worry."

He was being so calm, so free; even his own mind found a chance to remark on it, almost derisively, as he went about ignoring every rule he'd set himself about interacting with this man. His interest, and genuine warm feelings towards him made them invalid, in his opinion, but still there were warnings in that same head that told him he shouldn't get connected.

"Do you want some Earl Grey, Vincent? I've just ordered another pot. Think of it as a thank you for yesterday." He said, yet again ignoring the warnings and mentally reaching out to the man. Letting one person in could hardly hurt, after all.

Looking at the man almost with gratefulness, Vincent nodded, wanting to drink something besides coffee.

"Yes, thank you…" He glanced at Desmond's teacup, the pleasant scent reaching him quickly and making him smile. "And… Not quite, y-you see… It's not really the ancient history itself, no…"

Vincent awkwardly gabbled, not knowing how to say that he was only interested in Desmond himself; it seemed even a little creepy when Vincent looked at it now.

"I… I'm going to order a meal, too. I don't think I've eaten anything today; I might even faint…" He mumbled and took the menu the waiter gave him, searching for a proper dish. "… Desmond, do you have any recommendations?"

He glanced up from the menu to catch Desmond's eyes again, seeing the same strange, but interesting mix of emotions, and smiled, just happy to see the man again; the luckiness of the situation was almost unbelievable.

"The soup of the day is delicious - I had it myself for lunch - but not exactly filling. Hm, perhaps the pasta might be best?" Desmond said, leaning over to consult the menu and refresh his own memory, "I'll order some myself, now I think about it."

Noticing Vincent's gaze, Desmond smiled back warmly, returning to his seat properly. He started to tidy away more properly now, reasoning that they'd need the room if they were both ordering now. He returned the books he had been consulting to his briefcase, and left the notepad and a pen on the windowsill next to him, just in case he thought of something he'd need to jot down.

He was, also, somewhat marvelling at the coincidental nature of the situation. For Vincent to return to the same cafe, and for Desmond to have decided against his better judgement to stay out as he researched, along with surely hundreds or thousands of smaller decisions leading to those ones, seemed like what someone might call luck, to him.

"Pasta… I'll take Carbonara, then." Vincent mumbled to himself, then handed the menu to Desmond, thinking that he might need it if he was going to order anything.

"So," He continued the conversation with ease now, feeling much less awkward, "What is it about the Azran that's caught your attention then, if not the history?"

He just couldn't stop smiling, how happy the occasion made Vincent. When Desmond asked him about the Azran, though, he blushed just a little and looked away.

"I… If I'm honest, I just…" He bit his lip, deciding not to lie. "I wanted to understand _you_ … In a way… I was looking for your researches, but found only this…" He said, then pulled out the magazine he took with himself, glancing at Desmond with a little bit of anxiety.

Accepting the menu back from Vincent as he listened to him talking, he blinked in surprise at the explanation, somewhat flattered by the interest.

"O-oh, me...? There's nothing much interesting about me." He chuckled, the lie tripping off his tongue with a practiced ease, "But... What's this, hm?"

Before he had the chance to look at the magazine properly, a waiter had appeared at their side, placing down a new pot of tea and another cup for Vincent. He noticed the menu in Desmond's hand and quietly took out his notebook, asking what he was ordering.

"Two carbonara dishes, please. Thank you." Desmond said decidedly, tucking the menu in its holder before looking back to the magazine Vincent had taken out.

While the man makes his order, Vincent placed the magazine on the table for Desmond to look at. Vincent bashfully looked away on the window, thinking that his statement was way too straightforward.

"Desmond, d-don't think that I'm creepy, please… It's just…" He started mumbling quietly after the waiter leaves. "… You seem to be such a good person, I-I…"

He sighed, unable to continue talking, then silently poured some tea for himself, taking a moment to marvel at the scent of it.

The magazine's titles and captions showed up from the table with almost an accusatory look to them, in Desmond's eyes. 'Masked man'; of course there'd be articles about _him_. Wincing a little as the magazine hit too close to home, Desmond quickly regained his composure, realising that Vincent had been talking and biting his lip as he attempted to recall what he'd said.

"No, no, it's fine, Vincent. Worse things have happened to professors than people taking a light interest in them." He chuckled, pouring his own tea and stirring in some sugar to give him a moment to collect his thoughts. Vincent had taken an interest in him, over what he'd said? It was certainly a change to the norm. The man didn't seem 'creepy' as he put it, and he was nicer than most people, so he personally didn't see any harm in it.

However, if he pressed the subject of this 'masked man' too far, there would be a problem. In preparation for any questions along that line, he raised his guard again, if only slightly. It would be a shame to lose a possible friend so quickly.

"… Desmond? Are you sure you're alright?" Vincent sighed a bit shakily as he notices the wince and overall Desmond's body tensing quite a bit. "I-I apologize."

He realized that the source of it must be the article about that 'masked man', probably bringing up some of Desmond's bad memories. In attempt to comfort the man, Vincent put his hand, still with a glove on, on the table for Desmond to hold, just wanting to make him feel more safe. Making him feel better quickly became the priority for Vincent, even if that meant crossing some barriers; after all, this was his second chance.

"If you want to discuss something not related to archaeology, I'm here for that. You must be tired of it…" He timidly spoke, reaching out to take the magazine back now.

"Yes, yes, quite alright. This article is just... Quite a memory, let's say." Desmond played off the sudden change in attitude cooly, then smiled warmly at Vincent. He didn't quite notice the hand for a moment, still focused on the magazine, but when he went to pass it back, he did. Rather than see it as the comforting gesture it was intended to be, it simply set him wondering about the gloves again. It was another muggy day; how could he stand to be wearing them?

Blinking himself back to reality, he moved his own hand away and sipped his tea in almost a hurried fashion. The meeting was starting to feel less like luck, and more like a curse.

"We can talk about whatever; I really don't mind..." He said cooly when he remembered Vincent's offer needed a response.

The coldness in Desmond's response hit Vincent much harder than he expected. He withdrew his hand, sure that he might've done something wrong, before he realized that the gloves were most likely scaring him, which was quite understandable; someone who was about to commit a murder would do that.

"… Do you want to see what's behind them?" He nervously sighed a question, the pressure making his head hurt. "I… I see you're distressed about me wearing gloves all the time… B-but, please, promise me not to be scared by it."

He bit his lip, scaring Desmond away being his worst nightmare now. If the man is out of Vincent's life, what will he go back to? The machine, the seclusion, and… *Him*. The thought made Vincent sigh shakily again, feeling like the chance of having Desmond in his life is slipping away.

'Scared by it'...? The phrasing seemed strange to Desmond, implying that there was going to be something wrong here, but he wasn't going to make any guesses as to what. Perhaps it was too personal, but anything to get off of the topic that would have been brought up by that magazine.

"I... Not distressed, so much as curious... If you don't want to show me, that's fine, but I can promise I won't be 'scared', as you put it." He said, tentative about pushing the man. He didn't want to pressure him at all, but if he was willing to show him without even being directly asked... It was simply a part of the mystery - one that seemed to surround this man - resolved.

After tucking the magazine back to his briefcase, Vincent sighed and took off at first the glove on his right hand, which revealed nothing but just a terribly pale and bony hand, but then he took off the left one…

Just when Vincent started taking it off, something seemed off already – the colour of what was behind the glove was far from that pale one of his skin, but was dark, and looked like… Metal. When the left hand was fully revealed, Desmond could see that it was a prosthetic made of some dark, but shiny metal. Vincent looked at the man with almost guilt in his eyes, expecting the worst reaction.

"S-so… Here. My left hand is not intact…" He mumbled and moved the hand closer to Desmond for him to look more carefully. "I have to cover it up here… I'm a little afraid of the attention it might bring, even though gloves aren't much of a help now…"

Desmond couldn't stop himself from staring now, taking in the ease with which it moved, and the shining metal that looked also to go on underneath Vincent's sleeve. When he'd suggested this was something to be afraid of, this wasn't what he'd expected at all. But this certainly wasn't something to be scared of; simply a prosthetic.

"Oh..." He said calmly, smiling at the other man and looking neatly away to nurse his tea, "I can understand you not wanting people to pay attention to it; but I assure you, it's nothing 'scary', as you suggested. In fact, it looks to me like a very well made prosthesis. Uhm, may I?"

With this, he pointed to the hand, still smiling warmly, and asked in his gestures if he could hold it in order to take a better look. Questions bubbled in the front of his mind. How had he lost his arm? In the same accident in which he injured his eye? And how did this arm work? To Desmond, it didn't seem modern enough to function, let alone be dexterous at all.

"Yes, of course…" Vincent reached out and let Desmond take the hand, sighing with relief; gladly, this didn't scare Desmond off, but, in fact, sparked his interest.

Moving his hand a little to demonstrate the abilities, Vincent smiled warmly at Desmond. With a quick movement, he took his teacup and sipped some tea from it.

"It's… A pretty old model, in fact, but it still works. I customized it just a bit…"

Looking closely at the hand, Desmond hummed softly, then released it, not wanting to be rude at all. He smiled back and took his own tea, satisfied at least with the answer to one question, he looked more warmly at Vincent again. Since the topic had shifted away from him, he was relaxing more, too.

"You customised it yourself...? That's fantastic, Vincent." He said, pleasantly surprised and genuinely complimentary because of it.

"W-well, you see… This falls under my speciality." Vincent explained, smiling and even blushing a little at the compliment.

Noticing how the man is now more relaxed, Vincent noted that Desmond doesn't want to talk about himself yet. He sighed, letting the man look at the hand more. When the atmosphere became more relaxed, Vincent remembered that he never asked Desmond about how he is doing.

"Oh, I forgot… How are you today, Desmond? You look… Very tired, I must say." He asked, looking at the man with concern. "And for how long have you been here, in the cafe…?"

"I'm alright; I just had a bad night's sleep last night is all. Nothing an early night tonight won't cure." Desmond said, made somewhat happier by the fact that Vincent seemed to be looking out for him, "I've been here since about lunchtime, I'd say; I like to come here for a change of scenery sometimes when I'm working. Else I stay cooped up."

Sipping his tea again, he smiled, glancing at Vincent hand now and then, out of interest, and when the light caught it. The momentary lull in the conversation was much less awkward and tense as compared to the day before, and Desmond was glad of it.

"Oh… So you… Don't go outside that much?" Vincent asked tentatively, quite surprised by the fact; he carefully watched the man's eyes again, seeing sadness mixed with relief. "Oh… I hope you don't mind if I put the gloves on again."

Right before the waiter came and placed their meals on the table, Vincent quickly did what he announced, then marvel at the beautifully served food.

"This looks great… And smells great, too." He sighed before taking the fork and smiling at Desmond, still glancing into his eyes.  
"Yes, I do love the food here..." Desmond responded with a smile, still preoccupied by how he had phrased his question, "It makes me sound like a hermit when you say it like that, but... I suppose that's the best way to put it."

He chuckled a little here as he added a little pepper to his carbonara. Taking a forkful, he hummed with appreciation, realising now that he'd had lunch fairly early and just how hungry he was. If not for Vincent, he probably would have forgotten to eat dinner at all, though, so at least he had that.

"So, how's London been treating you, then?" He asked, deciding to strike up a more casual conversation both in order to keep it away from him and simply to retain the friendly atmosphere, "Have you done much apart from the conference at all?"

"Well, as you said… I am pretty much of a hermit, too." Vincent chuckled, pondering if he really can eat this entire plate, no matter how tasty it is. "I haven't done anything apart from the conference at all… As well as meeting with you. I got here for the conference…"

Vincent took a quite small forkful of his food, afraid of getting sick if he eats too much again; it would be more than embarrassing for him. The hunger just refused to come to Vincent fully, but Desmond's presence helped to deal with it, so he quickly ate the forkful, enjoying the food.

"Tastes good… I haven't eaten anything like this in ages." He sighed, not really sure if it's the other man's presence that's making the meal so tasty, or if the food is just good; it might be even both.

"I'm glad you like it." Desmond said, pleased his suggestion was taken so well by him. He focused on his meal for a moment, then paused to sip his tea, glancing up at Vincent as he did. Noticing the tentative way that he ate, he hummed thoughtfully, but decided not to mention it. He'd certainly pried enough into the man's life.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy it's been a while since we updated this, but here it is! warning for a minor eating disorder mention, and… things get Gay pretty fast buckle up friends

The atmosphere in the cafe was beginning to settle more now. Around them, only a few regulars sat, nursing drinks and grazing on snacks and meals. Some seemed hurried, as if late for something, but the calm of the room soon infected them, also. The quiet murmur of person talking to person, mixed with the sound of the light rain that had begun to fall, provided a nice soundtrack for the evening. Even the lighting, warm and gentle, helped settle Desmond into a relaxed mindset as he continued to eat. Even questions that he had for Vincent, and worries about discovery tucked themselves neatly away as he decided on simply enjoying the meal and the company. He let a genuine, warm smile cross his face, and sipped a little more of the warming tea before returning to his meal.

Enjoying the relaxed atmosphere that finally managed to built up as well, Vincent ate some of his pasta slowly, then sighed, realizing that he couldn't eat any more. He was a little bit afraid of getting sick, even despite the relaxed atmosphere, so he just moved the plate towards Desmond, smiling awkwardly.

"… Would you like to finish my pasta…? I-I'm sorry, I can't eat all of this." He sighed, looking at Desmond with just slight of anxiety in his eyes, pondering if he should explain his eating problems; that seemed appropriate to him; it might cause problems if left unsaid. "You see… I have trouble eating. I'm sorry, I should've told you before… Maybe we could have ordered a smaller portion, but…"

Vincent was anxious about revealing that part of himself, but it was much better than the disorder revealing itself if he forced himself to eat. Looking up from his own, nearly finished plate, Desmond smiled kindly

"There's no need to apologise, Vincent; at least you ate something, hm?" He said warmly, concerned that he hadn't eaten enough, but knowing better than to push it, "If you prefer, they can always box it up for you to have later, but it's up to you."

He sipped his tea, breaking eye contact for a moment, and hummed to himself quietly.

"Oh, that's good, then. I might box it up for later…" Vincent sighed, feeling a bit relieved; eating little portions often was much easier. 

Vincent kept glancing at Desmond's eyes, trying his hardest to keep their eye contact unbroken. He smiled at the man's understanding attitude towards his eating problems, feeling more and more relaxed.

The cafe around the two was slowly getting more and more empty. Neither Vincent nor Desmond didn't even notice how late it was getting, just enjoying themselves in comfortable silence, whilst Vincent was slowly finishing his pasta. 

"Does this cafe close for the night…?" He asked, after finally finishing his food. "It's… Quite late, I think… What time is it?"

"It's about quarter to eleven, but there's no need to worry; this cafe is open all hours." Desmond assured with a smile. He'd finished his Earl Grey now, and was instead washing down the meal with peppermint tea. The evening had passed comfortably for him; he hadn't even thought about the books he'd come here to study the entire time.

It was still raining outside, but less heavily now, and water pooled around the bottom of street lamps, reflecting the artificial, dim lights. Desmond watched the few people outside go on tiptoes to avoid the puddles with care, then turned his attention back to the table, mentally scolding himself again for people watching.

"Oh… I see…" Vincent mumbled, something else coming to his mind. Quarter to eleven… That was when Vincent's train to home was departing the next morning. He sighed deeply, not wanting to leave just yet, because…

There was nothing to return to. No friends, no relationships, nothing; only the machine, and _him_. Vincent shook his head slightly, as if to shake the thoughts off, then turned his attention back to Desmond, looking at him with almost hope in his eyes.

"I like it here later at night…" Desmond brought up, quietly enough not to disturb the other late-night visitors, "It's more…. Serene, I think is the best word for it."

He looked back to Vincent properly, catching his eye and smiling reassuringly when he notices the troubled thoughts getting to him. Hoping to calm him a little after noticing the small head shake, he poured a cup of peppermint tea for him, too.

"How many sugars?" He asked lightly.

"Just one…" Vincent nodded, silently agreeing to Desmond's statement about the atmosphere. It was so calm, and Desmond's presence made it so much more… Safe. Quietly accepting the tea, he smiled with gratitude and kept looking at Desmond's face. He wondered if they would ever meet again, even thinking about cancelling his train ticket tomorrow. But what about the hotel? He had no money to stay there any longer, and there probably were no unbooked rooms…

But no, not now. Vincent had to enjoy Desmond's presence, to drink it all in while he had the chance; so he just looked at him, sipping the tea slowly.

"… How about a dessert?" He chuckled, thinking that there has to be something to go with the tea.

"Hm, that does sound like a good idea." Desmond agreed, taking the menu out of its holder to look at the puddings they had on offer, "Anything particular in mind?"

With this, he moved slightly so that Vincent could see the menu at the same time, smiling warmly. He was enjoying the evening far too much to let it end just yet and, if he remembered rightly, Vincent was leaving tomorrow. He told himself to make the most of the time, wondering if he'd even have time to call him up at all once he went home.

"Well… I'm in a mood for a cheesecake. How about you?" Vincent chirped, resting his chin on his hands and smiling at Desmond sweetly; after a pause, he continued: "Desmond… It feels like I've known you for a long time, even though I'm sure we have never met before; have we?" He smiled and looked at the other man with hope, pretty sure that he was seeing the same in his eyes.

Suddenly, quiet piano music started playing in the cafe; Vincent remembered seeing a poster about live music being played at night in here, and he appreciated this addition to the atmosphere. Even though the music overall was quite sad, it had it's wonderfully happy notes. Vincent started having some poetry verses in his mind, but now it wasn't the time; he tried his hardest to store the words in mind.

The familiar song - always the first played of an evening in the cafe - greeted Desmond's ears like an old friend as he smiled back at Vincent, glancing away slightly and chuckling softly simply at how good he felt in comparison to most nights at the cafe.

"I… Don't believe we have met before yesterday, no, but I'll admit to feeling similar, in truth." He responded, finding the smile on the other man's face warmed his heart, "And yes; cheesecake sounds like a good idea to me, too…"

He smiled slightly more widely now, adjusting his glasses and humming quietly along to the music.

Vincent couldn't help but smile, Vincent couldn't help but smile back, feeling the song almost resonate with his mood, his feelings for Desmond…

Wait, 'feelings for Desmond'…? Vincent tried to stop his own train of thought, as it started to go way too far. What are those 'feelings' the song resonated with? That couldn't be… He sighed shakily and shook his head, getting himself back to reality quickly to meet Desmond's eyes, but they only made him think about these emotions again… Desmond's eyes, _beautiful_ eyes – Vincent managed to admit to himself.

"… I… I'm sorry, y-yes, we should make our orders…" Vincent mumbled before his thoughts spiral into something more, then call the waiter to make order the desserts and more peppermint tea, kind of afraid of his own emotions at the moment.

Quickly and quietly ordering the dessert and drinks, Desmond watched the waiter take away their previous plates, then looked back to Vincent. He noticed the slightly distracted look in his eye and decided to bring him back to the moment with some light conversation.

"The music here is always so peaceful at this time." He commented, distracted by thoughts of his own now.

The lighting in the cafe had dimmed now that the pianist was on, and he couldn't help but see the change it caused on Vincent's face. He hadn't noticed it before, but to his artist's eye, he was - to put it simply - a drawing waiting to be created. In his mind's eye, he could already see the finished product; a sketch, perhaps a study even, in black and white. Maybe he'd pick out the stunning colour of his hair, perhaps his eye, but the contrast of the colours would be more effective if he kept it simple…

Oh, he'd been staring. Blinking quickly out of the thoughts, Desmond busied himself putting back the menu, then glancing out the window to see the rain had near stopped. It was more a fine mist now, hanging low over the ground and creeping under doors.

Vincent almost didn't notice the stare, looking out of the window himself and enjoying the view… Or did he just not want to notice? Did he actually enjoy the fact that Desmond was staring…?

"… Yes, quite. The music is beautiful…" Vincent finally replied to the man's comment with a sigh, then looked at Desmond's face again, smiling at this small sparkle in his eye. "Desmond, you… You're really pretty…" 

What? Vincent felt like he lost control over his own speech for a moment, and quickly covered his mouth with his hand, instantly regretting saying that. 

"I-I'm… I mean… In a way…" He tried to justify himself, but it was useless; Desmond would either run away, or understand Vincent. "… S-sorry, I'm a little tired, s-so…"

"N-no, don't… Don't feel the need to apologise." Desmond assured, blinking and blushing at the sudden compliment all the same, "Thank you, Vincent…"

He smiled warmly back at him, telling himself that he'd have no place feeling uncomfortable with the comment, when he had been mentally planning an entire study on the other man. He pondered for a moment if he should share that, but decided against it, looking up to meet the eyes he'd been admiring properly. He couldn't help but think what sort of pencil strokes he would use to create the delicate shape…

Noticing the way Desmond was looking, Vincent was sure that the feelings were somewhat reciprocated, which made him finally decide to do what he have wanted to for so long. After taking off his right glove, his breath hitched a little bit as he reached out, moved his hand closer to Desmond's that was resting on the table and slowly, tentatively touched the fingers, glancing at the man's face to see his reaction. Vincent hummed worriedly, his still cool fingers lightly brushing against Desmond's.

Still somewhat captured by the look in Vincent's eye, Desmond didn't notice his movement properly until their hands were touching. The cool feeling of his fingers, despite the fact Vincent had been wearing gloves up until moments ago, made him blink and move his attention downwards. A smile more bright and genuine than any that had graced Desmond's face in years began to grow, complimented by the heating up of his cheeks. With a simple movement, and without thinking, he moved his hand closer, almost as if wanting to warm Vincent's with his own. Then, as he let his fingers gently press against the other man's palm, his thoughts caught up with him, and things began to make sense. That was why he was here today, wasn't it? This wasn't just because he wanted to help a fellow scientist, or because he was interested in his 'mysteries' - though that was certainly a part of it - this was something different entirely. This was something he'd always struggled to comprehend, let alone identify and separate from all the other thoughts and feelings that occupied his mind.

Vincent shuddered just a little bit; Desmond didn't get scared? Didn't want to run away, or pull his hand back? He replied to the gesture…? It shocked Vincent a little bit, because… What was next? He just took the man's hand more firmly, with a less timid gesture, and rubbed the inside of the palm with his thumb, realizing how soft and warm it is, how comfortable… Vincent couldn't help but blush, simply out of worry. He couldn't understand why he had such an urge to do this, and why just holding Desmond's hand felt so good.

"… I, uhm… Desmond…" He mumbled quietly, just wanting to check on the other man.

"Vincent…?" Desmond responded, allowing himself to hold his hand properly as his cheeks grew warmer by the moment. He couldn't think for the life of him what to say now; it had been so long since anything like this. He did know, however, that Vincent taking his hand was the best feeling he'd had in years, and that he wasn't going to be the first to move away. Meeting his eyes, he smiled softly, gently running his thumb over the back of other man's hand.

"Are… Are you alright?" Vincent quietly asked, glancing at Desmond's eyes; they looked even more comforting, even more happy… Vincent sighed and smiled, strange, calm happiness filling his own chest and making him breathe deeply as he squeezes Desmond's hand.

The waiter, who at first approached them to place their orders, decided to do it quietly and fast, noticing that the two are rather busy. Vincent didn't pay much attention to that, completely focused on Desmond and his soft, warm, and comfortable hand…

His eyes barely flicking away from Vincent when the waiter reappears, Desmond was stunned. He couldn't understand where this was coming from, but at the same time, he was telling himself he didn't _have_ to understand it. Just… Accept it.

"I'm… I'm fine… Are _you_ alright?" He finally responded, feeling almost breathless with happiness. He glanced back down at their hands, and grinned ever so slightly; they seemed to fit wonderfully together…

"I'm great…" Vincent chuckled, smile on his face as sincere as ever. Desmond's voice so filled with utter happiness made his eyes water just a little bit. He squeezed Desmond's hand, and sighed deeply, then looked at his face, smile growing bigger and happier.

He didn't even try to understand any of this, he just felt like this should be happening; this is all right, all for the better… He made Desmond so happy, after all; so content and filled with hope. The look in his eyes alone was enough to convince Vincent that everything was good.

"… I don't know what to say…" Desmond admitted with a soft chuckle, tracing small patterns on the back of Vincent's hand. He was still gazing into his eyes, seeing such genuine and sincere happiness reflected in them. Again, he started to wonder what drawing them would be like. A challenge, for certain, but one Desmond would be more than willing to take if given the opportunity.

"I… I can do the talking." Vincent smiled, finally feeling like this is his final opportunity to be completely sincere and to express his feelings for the man, even though he still was quite confused about them; maybe, talking them out will clear it all up. "Desmond, you're… I find you, uhm, very attractive… Even beautiful, I might say."

After saying that, he blushed and looked at Desmond, seeking approval and at least some kind of answer, even a non-verbal one.

Letting Vincent speak, Desmond's blush grew more prominent at every one of his words. He glanced away, trying to regain his composure, but then looked back with a beam on his face. Squeezing Vincent's hand, he tried to put his own thoughts into words too.

"Vincent, uhm… I certainly find you attractive too… I didn't realise at first; I'm… Quite oblivious…" He stumbled through his words, still looking into the other man's eyes, "Sorry; I'm… Not very good at this."

Beaming at Desmond's modest words, Vincent sighed, squeezing his hand and rub it with a gentle motion, silently giving him reassurance.

"It's completely fine, Desmond… This is why I brought myself up to say this now, before I leave… And…" Vincent stuttered a little and looked away, realizing something. "I… Don't want to leave anymore. I must stay, must… Must make your eyes sparkle with happiness… You look so lonely, so pained, I can't…"

Looking at their connected hands, he tightened his hold to bring Desmond's hand closer, feeling tears welling up in his eyes with the flush of emotions. Vincent didn't even try to comprehend what they all were… Love sounded too complicated,

But why did he want to make Desmond smile so much, why did he want his attention, to hold his hand, to just be close…? This had never happened before to Vincent, not after _him_.

"Don't… Don't cry, hm?" Desmond said quietly, noticing the tears before they even began to fall, "And you don't have to worry about me… We'll keep in contact, and- and I'm sure we can visit each other and the like…"

Bringing his chair closer to Vincent's, Desmond smiled reassuringly, but he didn't feel at all as sure as he looked. He was lonely, he was in pain, but he couldn't tell that to Vincent. He couldn't let him in…!

Closing his eyes, he sighed, pulling his hand away from Vincent reluctantly and moving back to his seat. He fell quiet, looking to his food and trying to find an appetite.

Vincent gasped quietly at Desmond's sudden withdrawal, still ignoring their desserts, finding the other man more important. Looking at Desmond carefully, Vincent saw total loss, pain, and even… Fear.

"… Desmond, did I… Scare you?" He mumbled, and focused on identifying Desmond's emotions; they were the most confusing part about him. He seemed to enjoy Vincent's company, and yet he just kept withdrawing, just simply out of fear. "I'm so sorry…"

"N-no, don't apologise…" Demond mumbled, all of a sudden much more quiet. He didn't meet the other man's eyes as he spoke, and he seemed almost to collapse in on himself, his entire body seeming suddenly smaller. "It's not your fault."

He poured himself some tea now, simply in an attempt to stop himself from reaching back out to Vincent, take his hand again. He didn't want to be alone, but… He had to be. It was the only safe way.

The sudden meekness in Desmond's demeanor made Vincent worry; what was happening to him all of a sudden? Vincent's first instinct was to help him. He realized that the man probably had something to hide; most likely something related to that 'masked man', or 'Targent' Vincent had read about before; but all that didn't matter now. Desmond was suffering right now, at that moment, and who else could possibly help him…?

"… Please…" Vincent mumbled as he quickly stood up from his seat and approached Desmond. "Whatever there is you're so afraid of…" He said as he tentatively took both the man’s hands, squeezing them tightly, his own hands shaking a bit.

Vincent had to admit that this man has became an important part of his life, an important person… He couldn't just let Desmond suffer, especially when he was right before Vincent.

"I'm not- I'm not afraid of anything…" He said defensively, but it was an obvious lie. He didn't even pull his hands away; just squeezed Vincent's in response. Sighing, he shook his head. "I can't… Vincent, I can't do this; I'm sorry. I can't be with you, or share anything with you…"

The amount of care Vincent was putting into simply looking after him in such a small way made everything he had to say all the more painful. He scolded himself for getting attached, for allowing himself to hope.

Who could accept him, if they knew what he was? If he lied, Vincent would find out eventually; he was smart. And then there was the thought of Olivia, stinging at the back of his mind. Would she forgive him? Was he allowed to move on from what Targent, no, Bronev had done to his family…?

Vincent sighed shakily as his hands slid out of Desmond's, and looked at him with eyes full of tears; unlike Desmond, Vincent always had trouble hiding his emotions, but he was feeling pretty much the same: scolding himself for getting attached, noticing _him_ returning to his mind again; after his mood lifted so much when their hands were connected, it fell after the euphoria, hitting the harsh reality.

"Desmond, I… I'm sorry. I was- I was way too straightforward; just… Disgustingly desperate…" He barely managed to mumble, covering his face. "Can I at least- Can I ask you for two favours, before I go…?"

Making a decision mentally, Vincent let out another shaky sigh and reached to his briefcase to at least return the money for the meal. This rejection was the last thing Vincent's half-broken mind could handle.

"Please, don't apologise, Vincent… This isn't your fault, I promise…" Desmond said, his voice softening again as the reality of the situation settled in. He was going to let his chance at happiness walk away, just disappear from his life, because he was too scared to look away from the buried past…

He reached out, taking Vincent's hand and blinking hard to keep away a tear that was beginning to bead in his eye. He, at the very least, didn't want this chance to end bitterly.

"… You can ask anything of me, Vincent… I'm just so sorry I can't give you…" He paused for a moment, then gestured to their hands, " _This_ …"

Gasping at the gesture, Vincent glanced at Desmond; meeting his eyes was now too painful, too terribly hard… After regaining some of his composure, Vincent looked at their connected hands, tears welling up in his eyes again.

"Firstly… Please, don't just forget me, alright? Please, remember me well… Remember _this_ …" He squeezed Desmond's hand as he talks with a shaky voice. "Secondly, and more importantly… I want you to know that… I can accept you whole. No matter what you've done in your life, I'll accept you, I can… I can listen to you…" He was babbling, barely able to construct sentences in his speech. "I… I know you _can_ give _this_ to me, you're just… So scared… And so am I. So be it, then…"

That was it for Desmond. He didn't want to lose Vincent, no matter what. He wanted so desperately to move on, and to fight the fear that had confined him to his lonely existence since he lost his wife and daughter. He could lie, he could hide things, whatever…! With a swift, impulsive decision, he stood up and looked into Vincent's eyes with his own teary ones.

"I… Vincent, look at me. I am… Absolutely terrified. _This_ is something I've been scared of for decades, but… If you're willing to… To take this slow, as slow as we need to get over our fear…" He stuttered, words stumbling over themselves in their rush to escape his mind, "If not… I will remember you, and this. I could never forget."

Vincent fell silent for a moment, staring at the other man, not expecting him to change his mind so quickly, if at all. He smiled at Desmond, feeling even proud of him, proud for admitting all this, for finally being open about his emotions for once.

"… I hope you're sure, Desmond. I don't want to force you, but… Yes, yes, let's take it slow." He said quietly, moving a little bit closer again. And like this, just with a couple of words, Desmond made _him_ go away, made happiness seem possible again; Vincent was a little confused at the quick changes, but he accepted it. "I… I will gladly help you overcome the fear."

This decision sure was quite impulsive, but Vincent just couldn't help it. Desmond basically admitted that he needed help, and Vincent needed this feeling of actually being wanted… Vincent needed Desmond as well.

"… Thank you, Vincent…" Desmond said slowly, squeezing his hand again and looking away, "I… Just, thank you."

He managed a soft smile, then sunk back into his seat, the words having taken what felt like all of his strength away. He had to do this now, he had a chance and he could _not_ lose it.

"I'll help you too… However I can." He said, close to too quiet for Vincent to hear.

"… I can manage. Helping you is what I'm here for." Vincent stated and sat back to his seat as well. He felt his entire energy getting drained as well, but he needed only one small action to restore at least some of it. "May I…?" He smiled and reached out to Desmond, wanting to at least hold his hand in a somewhat calm atmosphere.

Even though it did feel a little bit forced to Vincent, he tried to convince himself that it's merely his own anxiety telling him that; after all, Desmond's eyes were the most honest ones he had ever seen.

Sighing softly, Desmond managed a stronger smile, quietly taking Vincent's hand and meeting his eyes again. He noticed that, at some point, the pianist had stopped playing, presumably for a break, and the silence left in his place was surprisingly calm. He still couldn't quite believe what was happening, but he knew if he dwelled on it too long, he'd lose his confidence again.

"Vincent… I'm glad I met you." He said quietly.

"I'm just as glad, Desmond…" Vincent sighed, gently, but firmly squeezing Desmond's hand. "Now… How about we eat our cheesecakes?" 

The calm and overall peaceful atmosphere finally returned, and Vincent was more than happy to embrace it. He didn't let go of Desmond's hand, still; one hand was enough for him to eat. He wanted to keep Desmond closer, the feeling that he might slip away and never appear in Vincent's life again was still lingering.

"And aside from that… I have to find a place to stay… Will you help me? I still can cancel my train tickets."

Starting on his own cake, Desmond hardly took his eyes off of Vincent. He ate with a greater appetite now, his mood growing better by the moment.

"O-oh, you could… Always stay with me for a while, if you need somewhere to stay…" Desmond offered quickly in response to the other man's request, "There's no point you spending so much money on somewhere else when I have a guest room…"

He squeezed his hand fondly, refusing to think about any of the negative thoughts crowding in his mind.

"Ah, could I…?" Vincent perked up at the offer, quite surprised by Desmond's generosity. "Well, now that you've offered, I can't decline it. It's… So kind of you…"

He stopped eating the dessert for now, giving it a break to slowly rub Desmond's hand with his thumb. Vincent's mind was going a little bit numb after all the stress.

"… I have to move out from the hotel either this night, or tomorrow morning. I could… Move to your place tonight, I guess. This is so kind of you, Desmond; I don't want to go back to my city…"

"Well there's certainly no rush; I'd be glad of the company." Desmond said calmly, humming at the feeling of Vincent caressing his hand, "It's really the least I can do…"

He smiled softly and rubbed the other man's hand back, needing the contact to stay in the moment. With his free hand, he sipped his tea and continued with his cake. The pianist had finished his break now, and he was playing a much slower song. Desmond hummed quietly along, watching Vincent with a growing smile.

"Ah, I'll have to call ahead and let Raymond know." Desmond realized, mostly speaking to himself.

"I hope I won't be a nuisance… It means a lot that you're letting me to stay at your place like this." Vincent said quietly after finishing his cake. "My hotel is right next to this building; I could go and take my luggage right now, then we'll go to your place…?"

Vincent said all this tentatively, but the truth was obvious; he was excited about staying at Desmond's place. It meant that they have a chance to get even closer, as well as a total change of environment just being good for Vincent's health.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea to me…" Desmond responded with a smile lighting up his eyes, "I should order us a taxi; I don't think it's a good idea to go on the tube with luggage at this time of night. I can do that whilst you get your bags, unless you need help?"

Desmond saw the excitement growing in Vincent's features, and he couldn't help the enthusiasm rubbing off on himself. He grinned slightly at him and sipped his tea, a chuckle waiting in his throat for its moment.

"Yes, sounds like a plan. Here," Vincent gestured to the wallet he pulled out of his briefcase and gave Desmond the money that should pay for the food. "That should do it. I can pay for the taxi as well…"

He smiled and took his briefcase, then head outside the cafe to take his luggage and cancel his train ticket as well; in his excited rush, Vincent tried his best not to forget anything before returning to the cafe.

Before Desmond could offer to pay for everything, Vincent was gone. He blinked, then chuckled a little, calling over the waiter and paying for the meal. He collected his books and papers, then stepped out into the street. At some point, he hadn't noticed, it had stopped raining entirely. The smell and atmosphere still lingered, but only lightly. As he waited, he made a quick, unexplained call to Raymond, then he saw Vincent stepping out of the hotel and hurried over to help him with his bags. Seeing Desmond rushing to help, Vincent smiled, declining the offer; Vincent had only two rather small bags on him, aside from his briefcase.

"Thank you, Desmond; I'll be fine… Really…" He smiled, sincerely happy at Desmond's care, then looked around, searching for a cab. "Did you order a taxi…?"

"There's a stop just down there, and it's always there at this time. Calling one would have just taken more time in the long run." Desmond explained, pointing to where a black cab was sat by the curb. He led Vincent over and tapped on the window to get the driver's attention, then got in, a smile still on his face as he gave him the address.

When they were sitting, Desmond couldn't help but reach out to Vincent, already fond of the feeling of their hands linked together. Vincent gladly took the offer to hold hands whilst they sat; he grew ever so comfortable about this little gesture, it made his eyes fill with happiness almost instantly. Looking at their hands connected, he grinned.

"Again… Th- Thank you so much for letting me live at your place." Another reason to be grateful was obviously a chance to grow even closer; Vincent squeezed Desmond's hand as he spoke.

"You're welcome, Vincent; it's the least I can do." Desmond said quietly, returning the small affection. He hummed quietly, not realizing that it was the tune that had been playing in the cafe.

Thinking about having Vincent stay with him, he figured it would be best to mention Raymond to him before they got there.

"Ah, Vincent… I just thought, you'll meet Raymond when we get there. He's my butler, and a good friend, I'm sure you'll both get on well." He said calmly, smiling and rubbing the back of Vincent's hand.

Blushing at their fingers intertwining like this, Vincent sighed again and looked at Desmond, marveling at his eyes for a brief moment.

"Yes, I… I'm sure we'll get along well." He mumbled, rubbing Desmond's palm gently. "I'm sure I'll enjoy your place…"

His thoughts drifting somewhere uncontrollably, Vincent thought about sharing a bed with Desmond, which made him smile and blush at the same time; but he calmed himself down immediately – Desmond wanted to take it slow, so Vincent must be careful. And he was; he was so tender and tentative about even touching the other man's hand, the care was showing through even such a simple gesture.

"Well, I really hope you will…" Desmond said; blushing slightly and then noticing Vincent's blush and humming questioningly. He decided not to question it, though; his thoughts were his own after all.

Gently rubbing his hand, he smiled softly, more than grateful for the simple affection. It was strange, how naturally this had happened. Desmond had his doubts, of course, and his worries, but something about the other man seemed to soothe them at least slightly, and that in itself was nigh-on a miracle. He glanced at Vincent briefly and chuckled softly, simply out of happiness prevailing over fear.

Seeing Desmond's eyes all lightened up, Vincent's smile grew wider at the chuckle. He made Desmond happy, at least for now, he clearly was feeling less lonely, less afraid…

"I… I'm proud of you, Desmond. " Vincent said quietly, remembering how Desmond was just too afraid to even hold hands again, despite how much he enjoyed it. Glancing at their hands, Vincent sighed almost happily and looked back into the other man's eyes.

"… Thank you, Vincent…" Desmond said, squeezing his hand and looking fondly into his eyes. Still, he was admiring the colour, wondering what colours he'd mix to make them; how much blue, how much green… There was a light to them now, too; he'd need white as well. In a way, they were like the ocean; brimming with mystery and beauty…

Vincent chuckled, looking away from Desmond for a moment, but returning to his eyes quickly, still admiring them. The man looked so tired, it showed in his eyes as well as many other emotions that were mixed with the tiredness; Desmond's hair looked quite messy compared to yesterday, and Vincent had urges to just tuck some of the hair under his ear to put it away from his face.

"You must get some sleep when we arrive… Please, relax, alright?" Vincent said and squeezed Desmond's hand, wanting to show how much he cares. "I hope this night will be easier on us…"

'Us'… Vincent blinked and looked away again, feeling like uniting him and someone else into 'us' was something so strange, so new to him; he blushed a little bit again, but only out of the slight nervousness.

Noticing the blush, Desmond couldn't help but think how much it suited him, the soft rose-like colour against the pale, heavily-freckled cheeks, framed by that mane of wild ginger hair. He chuckled softly, resisting the temptation to stroke them, just to know what it would feel like.

"… Yes, I'll rest… Tomorrow will be a good day, I know…" He mumbled softly, unconsciously moving a little nearer to him in an attempt to keep the warmth growing between them.

"Yes, right…" Vincent sighed, noticing just how vulnerable Desmond was now, and how much he wanted to be a bit closer; as a response, Vincent rubbed his hand gently and smiled. "I hope the road won't take long… We both need sleep after all."

Chuckling, Vincent looked outside the window to appreciate the scenery, lit up by the bright street lights; the city seemed so much calmer at night, it soothed him yet more. He still held Desmond's hand tightly, even as the hazy sleepiness started to take hold..


End file.
